


At First Sight

by ScarletteStar1



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Prairie sees Hap for the first time.





	At First Sight

First, his scent as she moved her head in awakening.

He was not a man to waste time or money using cologne on a regular basis, but he did enjoy a well crafted soap and a lotion that he used after he shaved. Warm amber, earthy cedar, and spicy patchouli curled in her nostrils as she inhaled.

It’s not that a blind woman's senses are so much more acute than her seeing counterparts, just that she utilizes them differently. It is a common misconception Prairie had corrected for people on many occasions. She remembered all of these occasions simultaneously as the most primal part of her brain registered that she must be in Dr. Percy’s bed. The smell of his soap and lotion, and then beneath that, the silky oil of his own flesh. Softness of sheets she clutched in her fingers; warmth of the mattress beneath her; depth of the pillow under her head.

_And her head!_

Second, the sudden, shocking pain that flashed into her brain, just behind her eyes as she moved in awakening.

It’s not that the blind are more aware than others, or that they feel things, hear things, smell things more deeply. She prepared, for some reason to explain this to him as she opened her eyes.

But then he was there.

Third, him. His shoulders, broad and strong. His neck, swiveling his head to inspect the patient on his bed.

_She could see him._

He handed her ice and apologized for the violence outside. He had worried for her safety, he explained. Prairie attempted to stare vapidly, already forgetting what it was to be blind, and craving the exploration of his features. His brows knit together seriously over crisp eyes that looked genuinely concerned for her.

“Am I dead?” Her voice was a puff of air.

“Not anymore,” He smiled and his face crinkled with a mix of relief and fondness and excitement. She longed to trace the lines, each and every one with not only her fingers, but her eyes, to memorize every little part of him. He slipped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and started to measure her pulse with two fingers on the inside of her wrist.

If she could have, Prairie would have explained, then and there, to everyone who had ever made assumptions about her keen and rare senses as a blind woman, that being able to see and feel Hap’s fingers on the delicate flesh of her wrist was more potent than anything she had ever sensed without sight. She whimpered as the cuff tightened around her upper arm. He looked at her and she had to force herself to look away.

“Pressure is elevated pretty high,” he muttered. He reached for something. A syringe. Her protests came too late. The drug seeped into her system before she could beg him not to take his face away.

Back in her cell, the tragic Greek chorus of voices woke her. Her head was bleeding. She touched her hand to her head and felt the hot sticky blood. And then she brought her hand before her face and saw it, with her own eyes.


End file.
